


Mystery at the Bolshmeow

by Windershi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Police, Cats, Child, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Detectives, First Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Police, Yuri's obsession with cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windershi/pseuds/Windershi
Summary: Young, taciturn Otabek Altin has managed to get himself out of the seediest streets of Almaty with a career in the security forces. When Chief Feltsman supports his application to intern at Saint Petersburg Central Police Station, Detective Altin gets the chance to start his career abroad. He's guided by his tireless desire to serve those who need it most, his sense of justice and, perhaps, a secret longing that he won't even fully acknowledge to himself. His first case turns out to be less than a stellar debut -cats are missing in the neighbourhood and the police has barely started to look into it.However, when Ms Baranovskaya's star kitten, Nijinsky, vanishes into thin air from her popular cat café, the Bolshmeow, Detective Altin finds himself dragged into a mystery which roots might be firmly rooted in his own past. As much as Otabek wants to do the right thing, his heart might pose a rather insurmountable obstacle...





	Mystery at the Bolshmeow

**Mystery at the Bolshmeow**

‘Madam, I know this is a most distressing event, but please try to stay calm.’

 

Detective Altin was, in fact, trying to remain chill himself. Upon graduation as the first of his class back from the Police Academy at his hometown, Almaty, he had jumped at the chance of starting his career abroad. Some gossip had inevitably followed the strong support his application got from Chief Feltsman from day one –some said it was no wonder that the old man would naturally choose his protegé to enjoy the coveted internship spot at the Central Saint Petersburg Police Station. _Just how long will that loser benefit from his position as the underdog?_ , snickered those very same gossipers, without even really trying too hard to be discreet.

 

Otabek Altin could care less, and felt relieved that Yakov Feltsman himself did not give a flying fuck over those accusations, either. The former had committed to an impeccable course of study at the Academy after a childhood full of hardships that, if anything, would have granted him a spot behind the bars. The latter appreciated the thirst for self-betterment and justice that the dark haired boy’s actions would sometimes show behind his façade. Young Otabek hadn't had the best start at life, and that was already a well-measured wording. With the father out of the picture, a sick mother and a bunch of siblings to care and provide for, Otabek had to pay more attention to the often illegal ways of earning his family’s bread and butter than to school. His teenage years were already going south when Feltsman caught him one night at a club quarrel and managed to mostly channel all his energy and anger into a more noble cause –serving the citizens as a policeman.

 

Every time such service would become challenging, Otabek would remember his many lessons along Chief Feltsman, who had played an inadvertently fatherly role in his life –every single plead for justice deserved equal zeal and attention from their safeguards. Otabek had interiorised such mantra –and he had most definitely honoured it, at least so far. When the opportunity to go to Russia finally materialised, his feelings were mixed –pride for himself and for being able to support his loved ones in a morally acceptable way, worry they would be out of his sight nevertheless, a certain stubborn hope that was deeply linked to his most private past and that he refused to acknowledge, even to himself. None of those, he promised to his reflection in the mirror of his locker on the day he emptied it, would get on the way of his service.

 

However, having his glorious debut in the streets of Saint Petersburg reduced to _this_ felt like a cruel twist of fate.

 

‘Young man, I would urge you to focus on doing your job rather than offering unsolicited advice on my emotions. One of my babies is at risk.’

 

Otabek made a supreme effort not to let his face betray his thoughts.

 

‘Ms Baranovskaya, Nijinsky could be literally anywhere.’

 

‘I agree, Mr Altin. Anywhere, at the mercy of a sadistic monster. Which is why I hope you will find him soon.’

 

Find _him_ , thought Otabek as the icy green eyes of the old glory of the Bolshoi scrutinised him mercilessly. This was not some small ass village. This was Saint Petersburg.

 

‘Fair enough, Ms Baranovskaya. Let's check again the physical traits of Nijinsky. You wouldn't stop crying last time.’

 

~~~

 

Mila Babacheva could be a little obnoxious to be around when she turned the sass dial all the way up, but she did have a contagious laughter.

 

‘Thick auburn fur, white paws, well-groomed moustaches. I wonder whether our DNA database could shed some light on this mystery!’

 

‘Seriously, it’s a freaking _cat_. She had dozens of them at that damn café, anyway. It's not like her livelihood is going to be compromised.’

 

She winked and threw her arms around him without previous notice, in classical Mila fashion.

 

‘Well, cat cafes are trendy right now, and the Bolshmeow is everyone’s favourite. If you ever let me take you on a date, though, I promise I got the memo. We can go to the cinema instead.’

 

‘How very considerate.’

 

‘Actually, there's this film that I've been wanting to watch…’

 

‘I mean, the only reason I'm not complaining to Liutenant Nikiforov is because the lady is actually right about more cats having mysteriously vanished from households and shops in the neighbourhood too, lately.’

 

Mila’s grip loosened, with an almost imperceptible sigh. Otabek didn't feel bad. She was pretty nice, and he didn't want to play around with her. Period. Sooner or later she would understand. Someone like her would never be short of men happy to get her attention, men with a free heart and an interest in women.

 

‘Yeah, we've been low-key following the case on the press. Stray cats, mostly, but also pets. Neighbours see them all roaming the streets, until one day they're no longer there. It was kinda difficult to trace back to its beginning. We now believe that the first case was that kid’s kitten…what was his name again?’

 

‘Minami, I think.’

 

‘Right, Minami. So now we know, but back then, how could we tell normal missing cats stuff from a serial robber scenario? It took Officer Katsuki’s friend over at Thaibloom, the neighbourhood’s florist’s, to actually start seeing such a pattern.’

 

‘See, that's what makes me worry. There are some sick sad bastards out there. It's not like they would have just robbed Nijinsky because it was so precious. It could just be a bunch of weirdos doing shit to some poor animals.’

 

Mila left a newspaper scrap on his desk and headed to the door.

 

‘Well, you can go back to the last scene of the crime, can’t you? Just be careful not to interrupt Viktor and his lover.’

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘Even someone as focused as you should have realised that nobody needs to request so many records from our IT guy on a daily basis, unless that IT guy is an awkward, handsome cutie straight out from some Japanese pop magazine cover.’ Mila laughed. ‘I'm leaving. It's Comedy Club Night at the Carabosse and they have Georgi Popovich back in town. Mari and Minako haven't watched him perform yet.’

 

‘So tomorrow nobody will pick up the phone, the canteen will be closed until noon and you will wear sunglasses indoors, huh?’

 

‘Someone has to! Happy hour at the Stammi if you get bored. JJ and the girlfriend told me to invite the Kazakh weirdo.’

 

‘JJ who?’

 

‘Aw, Otabek. He'd be pissed to know that you forgot again. JJ from the Toxicology Department, you know. The dude who said that he was high on himself.’

 

‘Oh, shit. That one dude.’

 

‘Well, he said you look mildly interesting and that they'd love to meet you again.’

 

‘How nice of them to stop looking at the mirror for a hot second. Have fun.’

 

‘Alright, alright, you bore. But you know where we are.’

 

As soon as Mila left, Otabek focused back on his desk.

 

_The purrfect mystery goes on at Trattoria Crispino_

It had been a while since he last heard so much about cats.

 

~~~

‘So, what do you do on a Friday night in Almaty?’

 

‘Not much. I would just drive my motorbike, play some music with my friends.’

 

‘That sounds so cool.’

 

‘Your table is ready. It's right down there, at the other side.’

 

Trattoria Crispino was a rather cozy restaurant with all the signs of a family business. Group pictures featuring owners Sara and Michele with their mamma, authentic Italian fare and easy listening music on the playlist. In fact, the only discordant note was the surly look that Michele seemed to serve to all male customers who would dare to talk to his sister. ‘Better to get down to business, fast’, Otabek thought. Luckily, he got some unexpected help from the table next to his.

 

‘Don't take Mickey too seriously. Dude is a little old-fashioned. Besides, his other customers from the police station tend to come in couples already.’

 

The guy seemed to be in his early twenties, much like Otabek, with an easygoing look all over him, fair-haired and smiley. Michele waved his rolling pin as a threat, but he dismissed it sticking his tongue out. They were obviously in good terms.

 

‘Emil. Hadn't seen you around before.’

 

‘I tend to cook my own meals.’ Much cheaper that way, although if all restaurants had a menu like this one, perhaps he had been misled about the cost of living in St. Petersburg. ‘My name is Otabek Altin.’

 

‘Oh, you're the newbie that Liutenant Nikiforov and Officer Katsuki would talk about the other day.’

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘News get around fast in here’, Emil laughed. ‘They said they had a lonely old soul freshly arrived from Kazakhstan , so that would be you.’

 

‘I suppose.’

 

‘He only needs some pals.’ Sara smiled, bringing his order of tagliatelle. ‘Possibly an Italian girlfriend, too.’

 

‘You'll get him roasted before he can do his work here!’

 

‘Oh, it’s true. Have you got any news about Nina?’

 

‘I don't, sorry. In fact, this seems to be an ongoing issue.’

 

Sara sat down with them, immediately attracting her brother to the little meeting.

 

‘Sara!’

 

‘Oh, Mickey, don't kill the mood. This guy is trying to find out what's going on in the neighbourhood. Sit down and help. We don't have any other customers right now and you haven't stopped crying about Nina in a week, anyway.’

 

 _Bang, bang_ , Otabek thought while silently observing the scene between both siblings. Michele quitted his whining, albeit reluctantly, and sat down while wiping his hands on his checkered apron.

 

‘Thank you for your willingness to cooperate. I suppose you have heard of the Bolshmeow.’

 

‘Oh, yes. Poor Lilia was inconsolable that day. Still is, pretty much. Nijinsky was her favourite. A kitten so tiny, it really can't have gone anywhere by itself.’

 

‘Ms Baranovskaya insisted that none of his customers could have robbed Nijinsky while inside the café. That whoever took the cat away did so from the small garden where they chill.’

 

‘Sounds like what happened to Nina, too. We picked her up from the streets, so sometimes we had to open the door. Let the kitty have fun. And then it happened.’

 

‘Ms Baranovskaya didn't have security cameras that could offer any hints on Nijinsky’s disappearance. I assume you don't, either.’

 

‘You would be wrong,’ Emil giggled, pointing to Michele with his glass of limoncello. ‘After all, a zealous brother can only have so many eyes.’

 

‘Yeah, and judging from the footage, I would be right to do so, you dumbass.’

 

‘Come on, no need to be pissed off.’ Emil smiled, messing with Michele’s hair. Sometimes, Otabek would remember Mila’s half earnest, half tongue-in-cheek complaints about the local dating scene. ‘It's not that there's a shortage of cute guys. It's a matter of who they're looking for, geez.’

 

‘So the thing is, we also got CCTV at the back door of the restaurant, because that part is right next to the Stammi’s entrance and sometimes people get too tipsy…’

 

‘Yeah, like that weirdo with the salsa shirt.’

 

‘Aw, poor Seung Gil. He should let his hair down a bit more often. He's a lot of fun when he does. If he was that lively when he's teaching, the dance studio would have a waiting list.’

 

‘Or maybe not. Dude practically assaulted Nishigori from the sushi bar last summer, during the Multicultural Fest.’

 

‘It was only a _kiss_ , Mickey. Yuko uploaded the video to YouTube and everything. They were all laughing so much, because it was actually funny.’

 

‘Oh, gosh, I hope the local council will pony up the cash this summer, too. They're still a bit concerned about the pole dancing.’

 

‘Well, at least this year we got to hold Chris away from it until kids were in bed. I don't know what else they could possibly ask for.’

 

‘All I'm saying is, the Guang family’s boy got shipped back to Shanghai right after that.’

 

‘The poor thing. Right when he was saving his pennies to go to the US with Leo’s family for spring break.’

 

‘Meanwhile mom is worried about the streets in Almaty’, Otabek thought before clearing up his throat subtly. The rest of the table got the memo and stopped chatting, with a shadow of embarrassment.

 

‘May I take a look at the footage from the day Nina disappeared?’

 

‘Sure. I'll bring the laptop.’

 

Sara came back with the computer while Emil brought coffee and dessert. Mickey browsed the files.

 

‘How comes you hadn't thought of taking a look at these before?’

 

‘Well…I tend to pay more attention to whatever's happening at the cashier and the tables…’

 

‘You said Nina was out when it all happened. Could we watch footage from the back door?’

 

‘Right here.’

 

Right there. Shadows, a white blur in motion.

 

‘Ah, _poveretta_.’

 

‘So that's Nina…’

 

‘Yeah, well, I imagine from there, it just…’

 

It was only a brief moment, barely a couple of seconds. Otabek wasn't even sure the first time around and asked Michele to replay it.

 

‘Hey, guys, this is the best tiramisu in all of…’

 

‘Oh, fuck.’

 

Michele, Emil and Sara all looked at Detective Altin, whose fists were clenched in a sudden, knee-jerk reaction to something on the screen.

 

‘Otabek?’ Sara's voice was impregnated with worry. ‘Is everything OK?’

 

_Fair hair for my fairy, icy eyes for my soldier._

‘…I'm sorry. Please, look at the screen.’

 

Michele had clearly not skimped on the CCTV system, and thank fuck for that, Otabek thought.

 

‘Oh snap, we should have looked at the videos before.’

 

Still, he had to be mistaken. _Focus, Otabek. Don't let your personal crap come in the way of stuff._

‘A girl?’

 

Otabek looked at the shape on the screen. A petite, fragile looking one, for that matter, dressed in black like the shadow of Death itself. Seemingly blonde hair. The shape approached Nina and engaged with the cat. After a while, the footage showed Nina calmly walking away from the cameras, following the shape.

 

‘A girl took Nina away?’

 

_I'll write you every week._

_Fine, loser, but don't expect anything from me._ And he did nonetheless, but nothing ever came back in the mail.

 

_A cold angel with devilish grace_

_A white rose in bloom,_

_velvet and thorns my fingers caress_

‘Who's the bouncer of the Stammi?’

 

~~~

 

Leo de la Iglesia was a tough kid, but Otabek knew how to play his cards accordingly.

 

‘Hey.’

 

‘Gimme your name for the VIP list or bust, dude.’

 

‘Sorry, I forgot my ID at the Police Station. Wanna come check it? Bring yours, too. And your boss’, for that matter. I wanna meet the guy who's hiring minors for his club.’

 

Bingo.

 

‘Well, soon enough I'll be 18.’

 

‘Yeah, and soon enough I'll run out of patience.’

 

‘Listen, I'm only a bouncer. Celestino is a nice guy. All clean inside.’

 

‘Chillax, dude. I'm not here for your bar.’

 

‘So what the hell are you looking for then, man?’

 

‘Surely you've heard about cats vanishing into thin air in this ‘hood.’

 

‘Yeah, so?’

 

The right reaction. Denying to know anything would have sold him, just like pretending to be too much into it. It would take a while to get anything out from him.

 

‘I thought maybe we could chat about it.’

 

‘I don't have much time to chat when this place is crowded every single night.’

 

‘And you keep an eye on everyone, right?’

 

‘Wouldn't get paid otherwise. I don't have it cozy like you guys, bringing the bacon home just for walking up and down the street.’

 

 _Man, what a brat._ Otabek got the printed screenshot from the CCTV out of his pocket.

 

‘Fine. Does this person ring a bell?’

 

Leo took the print from his hands, looking at it with nearly perfect disdain before giving it back to Otabek.

 

‘Bad luck, dude.’

 

‘I thought you just said you knew everybody.’

 

‘Are you serious? This could be any poor twat out there.’

 

_Like fuck you're gonna get rid of me that soon._

‘Come on. Try a little harder.’

 

‘I told you I don't know shit. Plus I don't mix with babies like him.’

 

To a certain extent, both of them gave themselves away in that moment. A slight tension crossed Leo's teenage face. Otabek felt his eyes widening, but recovered first.

 

‘ _Babies_ , like _him_?’

 

‘Well…I mean, that looks like a kid?’ Leo's hand went to his hair in a nervous gesture. ‘That sure doesn't look like an adult…’

 

‘Leo, look,’ Otabek sighed. ‘We’re both busy. Maybe some sick bastard out there is, too, right now, torturing animals. So how about you…?’

 

‘He's not a sick bastard.’

 

_It can't be true._

‘Who is _he_?’

 

‘He's not doing any weird shit.’ Leo's face was now flustered with anger. ‘Fuck you for assuming stuff. You're just like any other cop out there.’

 

It all happened too fast for Otabek to control himself. Only when he saw fear in Leo's eyes did he realise that he was, in fact, grabbing the kid from his shirt.

 

‘What the…? Let go of me!’

 

‘No more bullshit, Leo’ hissed Otabek. ‘I told you I was running out of patience.’

 

‘Who the hell do you think you…?’

 

‘I said no more bullshit!’

 

‘You're gonna get in trouble.’

 

‘Am I? I know a lot of stuff. I know about you. I know you're not much older than the guy you're trying to cover. What do you know? I asked you very politely and you didn't want to cooperate. What do you know, Leo? Nothing. Do you want me to let you in a little secret? I may even know his name already.’ _Damnit._ ‘Will you take me pay him a short visit? Or will you force me to knock at the door without previous notice?’

 

‘Detective Altin, enough is enough.’

 

The voice was calm, yet firm. As soon as he heard it, Otabek knew he was, indeed, in trouble.

 

~~~

 

Lieutenant Nikiforov sighed while closing the door behind him. The fact that he had to do this did not imply that he would enjoy it. And he already had a headache after trying to stop Leo from spreading the whole incident on social media, with no solid guarantee that he wouldn't eventually do it.

 

‘OK, so how are we doing now? A little calmer?’

 

His eyes met Otabek’s and he immediately cursed himself for not being able to play tough from the very beginning.

 

‘I want an explanation to what I just saw.’

 

Otabek remained silent.

 

‘Detective Altin, it wasn't a polite request. It is an order.’

 

Yakov had warned him about the kid before he even set foot in Russia. He was brilliant and he was also mostly reformed from his past, but he still had not quite managed to get anger out of his system.

 

And yet, he had gladly accepted his application and dismissed Yakov’s advice on how to keep him at bay, because _‘trust me, Viktor, the day will come that you'll have to.’_

‘Fair enough. You're entitled to keep silence. I'm entitled to file an expedient against…’

 

‘Lieutenant Nikiforov, I am sorry.’

 

_Good lord, finally._

‘You mean you're sorry about abusing your position and behaving like a bully?’

 

It was a good thing looks couldn't kill.

 

‘Keep those eyes for someone at your same level and tell me why are you sorry.’

 

Otabek was clearly seething, but he seemed to take a deep breath in order to reply. Something about his look right now would make anyone think of a caged animal.

 

‘I am sorry that I misused my power while trying to do my job.’

 

Viktor sat down facing Otabek just as the door opened.

 

‘I thought you could both use some coffee.’ Yuri seemed nervous, as he would, but he did not betray himself by smiling at Otabek or anything like that, and Viktor was grateful for that, just as much as he was for their conversation before facing Otabek.

 

‘Thank you, Officer Katsuki.’

 

A thug when pressed, a gentleman once he had cooled down. Viktor waited until the door closed back and was about to take a sip of coffee when he saw his mug and rushed to turn the printed side to his face, almost dropping the damn thing because it was piping hot. _TO: DADDY/ FROM: MAKKACHIN & PIGLET. This is what happens when the budget is so tight you gotta bring your own cutlery to work._

‘I know that you are sorry.’

 

‘Am I fired?’

 

Viktor rubbed his eyes.

 

‘No, Detective Altin, you're not fired. But I want to know what made you lose your temper. If this is your reaction to a bunch of missing cats, I don't know if I can trust you when we are in a real emergency.’

 

‘De la Iglesia wouldn't want to cooperate and I got a little nervous, that's all.’

 

‘Otabek.’

 

_Why won't you open up?_

‘That's really all there is to it.’

 

He would have to try a little harder, then.

 

‘I see. Well, this is it.’

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

‘Vice Officer Babacheva will take care of this case. You can go back to…’

 

‘No!’

 

_Just a bit longer._

‘No?’

 

‘Please, don't. I…’

 

‘You…?’

 

_Let me help you._

‘I let personal issues come in the way of my job.’

 

‘What personal issues?’

 

‘Do we really have to do this?’

 

‘We very much do.’

 

Otabek slammed the desk, barely missing his cup. Viktor didn't care. _I won._

 

‘I think I know the person behind this case.’

 

‘Where from?’

 

Otabek grind his teeth. _Did I go too far?_

‘Here.’

 

That was unexpected.

 

‘What do you mean here?’

 

‘Here is Russia,’ said Otabek with the beginning of an eyeroll. ‘Moscow.’

 

‘Chief Feltsman did not tell me that you had been here before.’

 

The eyeroll progressed. After all, he was fresh out from teenagehood.

 

‘Chief Feltsman doesn't know every detail about me, even if I let him think otherwise.’

 

Viktor thought it best to wait for whatever came next. One word too many and he would miss the rest of the story.

 

‘When I was much younger, I came here for a short while. Barely a couple of months. I was part of this charity scheme for disadvantaged children.’

 

‘But that's too basic of a detail for Yakov not to…’

 

‘Lieutenant Nikiforov, failures aren't included in the final balance of a feel-good campaign and I was fucking good at failing back then.’

 

 _So this is the real Otabek,_ Viktor thought. Foul-mouthed, feral and tough as nails. _This is too exciting._

 

‘And…?’

 

‘And I met him then.’

 

‘Who?’

 

‘Oh, for God’s…’ Otabek bit his tongue just in time for Viktor to pretend that he wasn't genuinely asking and that he was going to let his lack of manners pass. ‘The culprit of this case.’

 

Whoops. _Well, I was so enthralled by the whole turn of the plot that I lost the track for a hot second. So what._

‘Otabek.’ Viktor said in a straight-forward manner, still trying to hide his awkwardness. ‘As a member of the security forces, you can't…’

 

‘I never heard back from him ever since I left. I have lived every day of my life hoping that I would find him again. Do you know what it feels like?’

 

‘What it feels like…?’

 

‘Do you know what it feels like to find something good about yourself in someone else?’

 

 _Well, if I'm not a sucker for this stuff._ Viktor sighed, this time audibly, and pushed towards his interlocutor a thin dossier.

 

‘What is this?’

 

‘Why, it's all we know about your childhood sweetheart. Don't get too excited, though. So far we've been dealing with a naughty child, although perhaps it's time to get him a promotion.’

 

‘Does this say where…?’

 

‘The rest of his life ever since you parted ways, you'll have to catch up with him. Be careful, will you? This is a working class neighbourhood where people are doing their best. That child's actual whereabouts aren't nearly as pleasant. The kind of people that you might find there is the one that you should get aggressive with, if need be. Not a teenage boy playing tough cookie.’

 

Otabek ran a hand over the dossier with a expression that Viktor had never seen in his face. Longing and worry tainted by bitterness.

 

‘You can now go back to your duties.’

 

_I'm cuddling extra hard with Yuri tonight, man._

‘Lieutenant Nikiforov?’

 

‘Hmm?’

 

‘Thank you.’

 

‘Get out of my sight before I change my mind.’

 

A couple of minutes after, the door opened again. Viktor laid his head in the familiar embrace and the warmth it brought over.

 

‘Judging from his look when he left, you didn't do too bad, now, did you?’

 

‘Let's see what happens,’ Viktor replied. ‘Hearts as fragile as glass.’

 

‘Where have I heard that line before, I wonder?’

 

‘Yuri.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I called him his childhood sweetheart. I thought he would flip me the bird. He didn't blink an eye.’

 

‘Aw.’

 

~~~

 

Otabek sat down by a fountain that had all the traces of having been dry for the last decade and got a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket. As the brainless dickhead he had been in his not-so-faraway teenage years, he of course had smoked like it was going out of business the day after. No particular reason to do so. When Chief Feltsman convinced him to try and aim for a career in the police, he had a hard time cleaning his lungs from all that crap for the physical tests.

Nowadays, he almost never smoked, and he would feel guilty for having to add the adverb. Sometimes, however, he would be too nervous and the smoke from the cigarette would help him relax and feel like he was at least in control of one small thing. Mom being admitted to the hospital for the third time in a month? Out of his control. Little Serik throwing a tantrum because he had gone through his old pair of football kicks only to have to wait for a new, equally brandless and cheap pair? Out of his control. Aslan throwing some classmate’s stuff out the window because he had been teased for the umpteenth time on their father being a drunk bastard? Out of his fucking control.

 

At least with cigarettes he could choose to enjoy a couple of smokes and then stop, or maybe not, or maybe even smash the damn packet and throw it to the rubbish bin. Endless possibilities.

 

So far, all his efforts that day had proven to be mostly fruitless. Lieutenant Nikiforov was right when he warned him about what to expect from the area of the city where _he_ was supposed to be living now. Otabek wasn't scared about that, but he also knew exactly what to expect from such an atmosphere. People in places like his own ‘hood or this one did not like to be asked questions by strangers. They might look for their own interests when alone, but as soon as they would face an outsider, there was an unwritten rule that they would cover each other.

 

 _And I know because that's how I would have reacted myself_ , Otabek lamented.

 

Twelve o’clock. He threw the cigarette’s butt to the floor and combed his surroundings with a brief look. A humble grocery store stood stoically at the back of the square. It was about time to grab something for lunch, and maybe get lucky.

 

‘You can keep the change.’ Otabek told the elderly lady. ‘It seems like you're having a quiet day at the shop.’

 

‘Why, thank you, young man. Yes, unfortunately it's hard to make ends meet these days.’

 

‘Saint Petersburg is not a cheap place to live in.’

 

‘No, it's not. Where are you from?’

 

‘Moscow,’ Otabek lied without blinking an eye.

 

‘Oh, my grandsons told me the capital isn't much better.’

 

‘No, not really.’ Otabek balanced the weight of his body on one foot, then on the other. ‘You see, I was trying to meet a friend of mine today here, but he didn't come to the meeting point and I was wondering whether you would maybe know him.’

 

The lady took some needle labor from a drawer and began to work on it.

 

‘There are many kids your age in this area.’

 

‘I suppose. My friend is only a bit younger than I am. Blonde hair, skinny. We were going to meet today, but he really is the worst with practical details.’

 

‘I see.’

 

‘So, maybe you know who he is and where he lives? He's so forgetful, he didn't give me his address. He usually goes around in this black hoodie with a tiger on it. If that helps.’

 

 _Stop now, for God’s sake._ If this was the best he could do, he would never find him.

 

‘How many people have you tried your little trick with, young man?’

 

Otabek felt his eyes widening.

 

‘You aren't very discreet. People like the gossip, but not the messenger.’

 

‘I…’

 

‘Nobody likes that kid very much. He doesn't make much of an effort to change that, not even with the few who genuinely care about him.’

 

‘Listen, I…’

 

‘Be careful, if you do find him. I would say he's not that bad, but he's lonely and too used to taking care of himself. Kids like that grow up way too soon.’

 

‘I know that far too well.’

 

‘You look like you would, indeed.’

 

Otabek couldn't really tell whether the lady was willing to help, in her own cryptic way, or quite the opposite. He kept looking at her, hoping that she would offer some clue, but she immersed herself in her sewing and did not utter a single word. _Old wench._

On top of that, the sandwich he had just bought tasted about as good as cardboard.

 

‘Ah, fuck.’

 

‘Meow.’

 

Otabek looked down. A cat stood to his left, leaning against a wall covered in graffiti.

 

‘Hey, you.’

 

‘Meow.’

 

The poor thing seemed to have had it pretty rough. Three-legged with a tail that seemed to have barely survived some terrible accident, bald patches all over its bony body and the remaining fur covered in dirt.

 

‘Are you hungry?’

 

When he kneeled and tried to approach it, the cat hissed, clearly scared. It was only then that he realised that the injuries of the cat were almost all fresh. Otabek raised his eyes. Across the street, a bunch of kids ran away hurriedly.

 

‘And they say all children are angels, huh?’

 

He placed his sandwich on the floor and then moved away to let the cat have it in peace.

 

‘It's OK if you don't wanna come closer,’ he sighed. ‘Seems to be a recurring theme in my life.’

 

It all happened very quickly. The cat had barely dared to approach the food when it suddenly darted past Otabek’s right side. He turned round immediately, with barely enough time to catch the glimpse of a shadow disappearing past the corner.

 

A few seconds too late.

 

‘Oi!’

 

Otabek jumped up like a spring.

 

‘Hey!’

 

_It has to be you._

A maze of filthy alleys flanked by rubble, with a ceiling of clothes lined full of faded laundry.

 

‘Stop, it’s the pol…’ Otabek stopped mid-sentence, then said ‘It’s me!’

 

_It's me._

Otabek realised that he had let go of his whole identity as a policeman. When, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he had done so days ago, as soon as he had the first inkling of who he was after. It was wrong. It was dangerous.

 

_‘Leave him alone, you assholes.’_

_Eleven-year-old Otabek stared at the child, slightly incredulous._

_‘Mind your own business!’_

_Not that he needed any help to win his battles, but even if he did, it's not like he would count on a little kid for it._

He could care less.

 

‘It's me!’

 

_‘Do you like him, little fairy?’_

_‘Sure he does, look at…ouch!!’_

_The bully covered his forehead and looked in horror at the thread of blood running down to his nose. He had just burst into tears when he ran away, followed by his scared sidekicks._

_The child turned round._

Otabek stopped, trying to focus and find a clue, any clue. His breathing was so heavy that he  almost didn't hear a muffled sound above, coming from one of the wobbly emergency staircases of the apartment blocks.

_‘Are you OK?’_

_Otabek had always been teased because of his short height, and that child was even smaller. Way more fragile, too, with golden, longish hair and a frame so light that he was, indeed, girlish._

_‘What did you just do? You're gonna get us into trouble.’_

_‘I don't care,’ the child answered curtly._

_It was already then that Otabek thought he had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier._

_It'd take him a whole summer, and then some more, to realise all that he felt towards that tiny, stubborn devil._

Otabek climbed to the top of the staircase in strides, cursing himself for the lack of stamina that had him grasping for air at the final steps. He leaned on the railing for a second to see a broken window leading to darkness inside the old, lousy building.

 

 _Lieutenant Nikiforov is going to kill me if I don't take care of it myself before,_ Otabek thought before jumping in.

 

Everything was silent inside, so much so that Otabek could feel his heartbeat like a drum roll. He had no idea what to do now.

 

‘Meow.’

 

Otabek had barely tried to move when something pounced on him, knocking him over.

 

_Finally._

His opponent wasn't as strong as he was fierce. Otabek frantically tried to look for the shape of a weapon in the darkness. A hand grabbed his wrist with more decision than actual firmness, a fist blew over his face and landed on his mouth, knuckles first. Otabek heard himself crying in pain, but he relaxed immediately. _He doesn't have anything with him._ He didn't need to attack him.

 

_I didn't want to hurt you._

 

‘You…!’

 

Amidst the chaos, Otabek found the chance to shake his wrist away from his grip and quickly grabbed him by the arm. His opponent uttered a sound of sheer rage and tried to hit him again with his free hand, only to find himself effectively immobilised.

 

Then, time stopped.

 

Otabek heard some feline lament from the other side of the paper-thin walls and then the sound of their panting. He felt exhausted from all the persecution and the fight, blood from his broken lip filling his mouth with an odd, unpleasant taste. A strand of his blonde hair tickled his nose. In seconds that stretched into infinity, Otabek registered his green eyes, the perfect curve of his nose, the features that had grown out of childhood but held up to the awkwardness of teenagehood. His warm breath mixed with his own, so close that barely leaning forward would have meant signing his own, sweet death sentence. Otabek felt excitement rushing through his blood at the very thought of it. _God, I am a freak._

‘…You,’ the voice whispered, finally acknowledging him.

 

Otabek smiled.

 

‘Yuri Plisetski, long time no see you.’

 

~~~

‘You are a fucking weirdo.’

 

‘Look who's talking.’

 

Yuri threw him a half-empty box of Kleenex that he had just fished from a dusty cupboard.

 

‘I think they're clean. Wipe that blood away, moron. You'd better not expect a first aid kit afterwards.’

 

Otabek took a look at the tissues and opted for the sleeve of his shirt.

 

‘You fight better these days, huh? No need for rocks now.’

 

‘You let me beat the crap out of you, asshole. Why?’

 

‘I like it rough.’

 

Yuri blushed slightly and bent down to catch Nijinsky, who was casually passing by the tattered armchair. Ms Baranovskaya would have fainted at her kitten in the hands of such a wild one.

 

‘What the hell are you even doing? A policeman? Dude.’

 

‘I actually love it, you know.’

 

‘Talk about changing.’

 

Otabek smiled calmly.

 

‘I feel like I chose it so that I could channel everything I felt without anyone intruding.’

 

‘You get to fight with people everyday?’

 

‘No, but I do get to give myself whole to something worth, daily.’ Otabek hesitated, then added, ‘I feel meaningful.’

 

Respect crossed Yuri’s eyes silently.

 

‘So? What about you? I was so surprised when I realised I was chasing you. I thought you were in Moscow?’

 

‘And I was, up until half a year ago,’ Yuri grimaced. ‘Then I came here.’

 

‘Has your grandpa…?’

 

‘Of course not, you dumbass,’ Yuri snapped, the hand that wasn't caressing the cat clasping over the armchair. ‘He retired, and we weren't doing great, money wise. He's a bit frail, you know? I was a burden.’

 

Otabek looked at him. He had definitely grown older, with a new air of maturity all over him and a certain sense of gracefulness in his svelte body, but his face looked pale and tired. He could definitely do with a full meal and a week of sleep.

 

‘I hope you let him know you're here, or else you'll kill him with worry.’

 

‘Hey, save yourself the big brother talk, will you? I call him twice every week and I send him money when I can and…’

 

 _Does he see me as a big brother?_ , Otabek caught himself wondering.

 

‘…It's not much because everything is expensive as fuck here and I also have to think about the cats, but I do what I can, so don't you try to…’

 

‘Yuri.’

 

‘What? Let me speak, you…’

 

‘Calm the hell down.’

 

Nijinsky slipped away. All of a sudden, Yuri looked awfully vulnerable.

 

‘It's me. It's OK.’

 

Otabek knew he should have felt uncomfortable by forcing Yuri to drop down his damn armour, but he didn't. Silence over the years had made him wonder, twist and turn, go back the past over and over again. This face to face was far from anything he had imagined for a potential reunion, but it was also far from making him feel bad.

 

‘Why do you even care?’ Yuri mumbled. ‘I have ignored you all these years.’

 

‘You were busy. Life happens. No big deal.’ Otabek lied.

 

‘That's not true, you massive loser.’

 

‘Maybe not.’

 

‘It's not. I didn't want to talk to you.’

 

‘Yeah, I kinda noticed.’

 

‘I got your letters, until you gave up with them.’

 

‘Yeah, eventually I decided to think that maybe you had moved early on.’

 

‘I hadn't.’

 

‘I know.’

 

‘I don't know why I never replied. And then time went by and it felt more and more awkward.’

 

‘I choose to be OK with it.’

 

‘Why?’

 

 _Words tire me easily_ , Otabek thought as he stood up from the chair and went to Yuri in the armchair. _I would rather let my actions speak for me._

Still, he did both.

 

‘Because this is what I wanted to do, all along,’ he whispered, wrapping his arms around him.

 

There was a moment of tension between them both, one awaiting a reaction, the other measuring it out of pride. When Otabek felt Yuri’s hug, he sighed and laid his head on his shoulder.

 

‘Am I in trouble because of the cat thing?’

 

‘Slightly, but I'll find you a way out of it.’

 

‘I hope you will. Damnit.’

 

‘Why did you even do it? They aren't stray cats.’

 

‘Some of them were. At the beginning, at least.’

 

‘Fair enough. Why the others?’

 

‘I don't know. They weren't free. I thought they would do better with me. They could be out and about all day as long as they would come back.’

 

‘I thought you were happy to be on your own.’

 

‘Most of the times.’

 

Otabek found his own hand gently stroking Yuri's hair. _Ah, crap, he will shake it off._ He did not.

 

‘Yuri.’

 

‘Hmmm?’

 

‘I've got an idea.’

 

~~~

 

‘Alright, so when?’

 

Otabek reached for the jar of coffee and poured himself a cup.

 

‘When?’

 

‘Yeah, when will you throw the housewarming party?’

 

‘What's a housewarming party?’

 

Mila dipped a cookie in her tea with the look of someone who had lost all faith in mankind.

 

‘When you move to a new place, you host a party. For your friends. To come celebrate with you.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Oh?’

 

‘Yeah. I honestly didn't know that...’

 

‘…If you say anything close to “woe is me, I've got no friends”, I'll kill you, and bury you in your brand new backyard.’

 

Otabek laughed.

 

‘Didn't even cross my mind. I'll talk to Yuri about it. See what he thinks.’

 

_Yuri is going to curse them all and then he won't shut up about it._

‘Are you still going to sleep in the sofa in the new apartment?’

 

‘Mila.’

 

‘Inquiring minds want to know. Will you invite JJ and the girlfriend?’

 

Now that would be a problem. Yuri's first impression of JJ hadn't been the greatest. Otabek was still trying to make him understand that you couldn't flat out kick people out of your place. Not when they had come to help build your kitchen table that they had generously provided you with. Not even after they patted your head and asked you how were you doing in middle school immediately afterwards.

‘Hell, I might even end up answering questions on my private life instead.’

 

‘You already did.’

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘You look cute when you get all awkward, Detective Altin. It's a nice look on you.’

 

Otabek left a smile linger in his lips while he looked out the window. It had been an odd, cool season of life, lately.

 

‘Next weekend.’

 

‘Hmmm?’

 

‘Next weekend, if it's not too cold, you can all come over, I think.’

 

~~~

Fucking algebra.

 

Yuri closed the textbook and stretched on the sofa. It was hard to get back to school, even if it was on a night time schedule. Sometimes he wanted to dump the damn books. Then he would take a deep breath and go see Ms Baranovskaya. She insisted it wasn't too late for him to try and sit the auditions for the Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet, even now that he was eighteen, even less when she still knew the right people. After all, he had been trained all through his childhood and stayed in fairly good shape even after dropping out. However, she had been adamant in her conditions to take him under her wing.

 

‘Yuri Plisetski, I won't waste my time in someone who can't keep the word they gave.’

 

Because he had, indeed, given his word to Otabek.

 

_‘Come live with me.’_

_‘No, thank you.’_

When Otabek found him, he was already struggling hard enough, but his pride was intact. He hadn't left his only family to become someone else's burden, let alone _that_ someone. _Gross._

_‘I'm not a pretty doll to keep at home.’_

_‘Huh? You're getting the wrong idea here.’_

Otabek’s idea of his contribution to their life together turned out to be his promise that he would graduate from high school and stay out of trouble. As long as he did, he could live with him, try to get back into ballet and get his dosage of cat love from Ms Baranovskaya’s, and even do a part-time job in the weekends, if he so desired. Conveniently enough, Officer Katsuki was looking for a Russian teacher after having proved himself fully unable to learn the language on his own other than the very basics of partying, indulging on the gastronomy and affectionate name calling.

 

‘Meow.’

 

Yuri looked at Puma Scorpion Tiger, with his crooked tail pointing at him in an accusatory way.

 

‘Don't look at me like that.’

 

‘Meow.’

 

‘Yeah, I know, he let you stay and he won't admit he's allergic to cats. So what. I offered to take you to Lilia’s, anyway.’

 

Puma climbed to the table and sniffed the algebra textbook.

 

‘Alright, alright. Fuck. I was only taking a break, you know.’

 

As days went by, Yuri found that the thread of gratitude that kept him anchored didn't only lead to Otabek. If he would only trace it, he would find others along the way. There was Ms Baranovskaya, of course, waiting for him every afternoon in the dance studio of Seung Gil, who had let them use it during lunch time for free with a growl of agreement. However, there was also Yoko, from the sushi bar down the street, inviting him to come over for dinner more often than not so that he would ‘help her tame the triplets.’ There were the weird trio at the Italian restaurant, with Emil and Michele dropping by and always forgetting half of their groceries at home, only for Sara to knock on the door half an hour later announcing that she was hungry, so would he fix something quick before they went out to look for yet another apartment with the girls.

 

‘Dude, this is actually super hard.’

 

On one of their first visits to the new place after getting the keys, someone had knocked on the door. Yuri had ran to open, thinking it'd be Otabek, only to find him hiding behind some blonde dude with a terribly thick accent who was already setting foot into the living room.

 

_‘Who the hell…?’_

_‘Oh, my God. Honey, I love animal print too, but that doesn't mean I would choose it as my home’s entire décor theme.’_

_‘Beka, what in the everloving fuck?’_

_‘So Minako insisted on having her friend Chris come take a look, because he's an interior designer, and…’_

_‘Well, this entire room needs to be killed with fire. Sorry, not sorry.’_

_‘I mean, she said he'd do it all for free and I couldn't say no…’_

_‘Listen to me, man, I'm teaching you that word tonight. Yo! Dude! Touch the cat’s basket and you're dead!’_

OK, but doesn't all this get overwhelming, Leo asked him when they met the day before he took that plane to China.

 

‘Are you kidding me? They're all gonna drive me crazy.’

 

And yet, it was _so much fun_.

 

‘So how's the daydreaming going?’ Otabek's voice startled him.

 

‘Hey, could you, I don't know, knock at the door like normal people would?’

 

Otabek raised the house keys with a fake sad look in his eyes.

 

‘I did, but you wouldn't open, so…’

 

Yuri took the goddamn keys from his hands and threw them to the basket on the small table next to the door.

 

‘Hey, are you doing basketball these…?’

 

Yuri grabbed the collar of his leather vest and kissed him, then immediately tried to wiggle out of his arms.

 

‘Ugh, your hands are freezing. Stop.’

 

‘Damn, I'm sorry. I always forget.’

 

‘You do. I bought you that pair of gloves so that you would use them, you know?’

 

‘Alright, I'll go find them if you insist.’

 

‘Shut up and behave.’

 

Yuri smiled when Otabek raised him slightly before kissing him again. _He knows that I like that, damn._

‘You know that my boss invited us to go out with them tonight, right?’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘I'm dead tired, though.’ Otabek murmured playfully.

 

‘Then let's stay in.’

 

‘How do they call it…? Netflix and…?’

 

‘Netflix and chill, but we can't afford Netflix.’

 

Yuri closed his eyes as he felt Otabek’s teeth sinking gently in his neck.

 

‘Then we go right to the chill bit.’

 

‘Good one right there.’

 

‘And I can be even better.’

 

Yuri was improving at not blushing.

 

‘Ah, before I forget. Mila wants us to throw a…warming house…’

 

‘A housewarming party? Man, that hag.’

 

‘You don't want to?’

 

‘Of course not. We’d have to make a crapton of piroshki and they'd all get drunk and then your colleagues would act weird and then we'd all go to the roof to look at the stars or whatever.’

 

‘OK, so we're not doing it next Saturday or whatever.’

 

‘Nah, not at all.’

 

Someone's hands felt just right now.

 

‘OK.’

 

‘Yeah, OK.’

 

It wasn't an easy life. They had ups and downs, they argued, they had problems that sometimes felt too heavy to carry on their shoulders. But they also had each other, and their own reasons to carry on.

 

‘I feel meaningful,’ Beka had said on the day they reunited.

 

And so he did, now, too. On his own first and foremost, but also next to many others.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
